Joshua — Volume 1 eBook

Moses had murdered Pharaoh’s first-born son,
but he and the aged chief-priest of Amon held the
weal or woe of the dead prince’s soul in their
hands,—­a weapon sharp and strong, for he
knew the monarch’s weak and vacillating heart.
If the high-priest of Amon—­the only man
whose authority surpassed his own—­did not
thwart him by some of the unaccountable whims of age,
it would be the merest trifle to force Pharaoh to
yield; but any concession made to-day would be withdrawn
to-morrow, should the Hebrew succeed in coming between
the irresolute monarch and his Egyptian advisers.
This very day the unworthy son of the great Rameses
had covered his face and trembled like a timid fawn
at the bare mention of the sorcerer’s name,
and to-morrow he might curse him and pronounce a death
sentence upon him. Perhaps he might be induced
to do this, and on the following one he would recall
him and again sue for his blessing.

Down with such monarchs! Let the feeble reed
on the throne be hurled into the dust! Already
he had chosen a successor from among the princes of
the blood, and when the time was ripe—­when
Rui, the high-priest of Amon, had passed the limits
of life decreed by the gods to mortals and closed
his eyes in death, he, Bai, would occupy his place,
a new life for Egypt, and Moses and his race would
commence would perish.

While the prophet was absorbed in these reflections
a pair of ravens fluttered around his head and, croaking
loudly, alighted on the dusty ruins of one of the
shattered houses. He involuntarily glanced around
him and noted that they had perched on the corpse of
a murdered Hebrew, lying half concealed amid the rubbish.
A smile which the priests of lower rank who surrounded
his litter knew not how to interpret, flitted over
his shrewd, defiant countenance.

CHAPTER III.

Hornecht, commander of the archers, was among the
prophet’s companions. Indeed they were
on terms of intimacy, for the soldier was a leader
amid the nobles who had conspired to dethrone Pharaoh.

As they approached Nun’s ruined dwelling, the
prophet pointed to the wreck and said: “The
former owner of this abode is the only Hebrew I would
gladly spare. He was a man of genuine worth,
and his son, Hosea. . . .”

“Will be one of us,” the captain interrupted.
“There are few better men in Pharaoh’s
army, and,” he added, lowering his voice, “I
rely on him when the decisive hour comes.”

“We will discuss that before fewer witnesses,”
replied Bai. “But I am greatly indebted
to him. During the Libyan war—­you
are aware of the fact—­I fell into the hands
of the enemy, and Hosea, at the head of his little
troop, rescued me from the savage hordes.”
Sinking his tones, he went on in his most instructive
manner, as though apologizing for the mischief wrought:
“Such is the course of earthly affairs!
Where a whole body of men merit punishment, the innocent
must suffer with the guilty. Under such circumstances
the gods themselves cannot separate the individual
from the multitude; nay, even the innocent animals
share the penalty. Look at the flocks of doves
fluttering around the ruins; they are seeking their
cotes in vain. And the cat with her kittens yonder.
Go and take them, Beki; it is our duty to save the
sacred animals from starving to death.”